The Only Tudor Rose
by doCHAI
Summary: Born in the modern times, Mary Tudor would never be a bastard, but she would still have to deal with Henry's worst mistakes, and Katherine's loyalty to her father. This time, would she be able to rise to the occasion?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own no one of the characters mentioned in the story._

_A/N: I kept thinking of how I would put the Tudor characters in modern times, but I can't really think how. Because somehow, divorcing your wife just because you don't have a son doesn't really make any sense anymore. Anyhow, my brain did its work and I came up with this. I messed up with the Tudor kids' ages, though. And let's pretend that Arthur doesn't exist, and Henry and Katherine's ages are the same._

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I am Mary Tudor, Henry and Katherine Tudor's only daughter. My family owns the most renowned hospital in London – St. Margaret's Hospital. It was named after my great-grandmother, Margaret Beaufort. It's not like she's a saint or saint-like (according to my aunts, she was really strict), she was named after St. Margaret and a hospital named after a saint sounded good – at least, according to my grandfather Henry Tudor. When my paternal grandfather Henry Tudor founded it, it was a mere clinic, and they liked it that way. My paternal grandmother, Elizabeth Plantagenet, a nurse, stood by him.

Together, they have three children, my Aunt Margaret, my father Henry and Aunt Mary. When my father took over the clinic, it grew. And when my father married my mother, Katherine Trastamara, a renowned surgeon from Spain, St. Margaret's hospital became the most prestigious hospital in London.

My mother is from a family of doctors – the best that Spain has. She is the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella Trastamara – a cardiothoracic surgeon and an OB/GNYE respectively. My mother herself is a neurosurgeon. She often bragged to me that she was competing with my father to get into the neuro program when they were interns in Spain, since they only accept one – and she was the one who got in.

My father, just like his father, is a pediatrician. He loves kids, which is why he was disappointed whey he had only me as his child (with my mother, at least). He said that my mother loved being in the OR rather than having a family.

Which is a lie. It was, in my opinion and critical thinking, because of the unfaithfulness of my father to my mother. It was my mother who kept this family together after all these years. My father kept on tearing it apart.

Before they had me, my father had an illegitimate son by Jane Seymour – Edward Seymour. I can't imagine how my mother lived through that. If I were my mother, I would have asked for a divorce then and there, and probably left my father with nothing, not even the hospital. But as she always said, it was still worth it because she had me.

My mother had not seen the last of my father's unfaithfulness and I am unfortunate enough to live to see it. When I was twelve and my bastard half-brother Edward was fifteen, I had another bastard sibling, this time, a sister – Elizabeth. She is the daughter of Anne Boleyn, my mother's secretary. She was fired when my mother found out but just like what my father did to Jane Seymour, she gave Anne Boleyn and Elizabeth a house in the country.

At that point I told my mother that she didn't have to stay with my father for my sake. Some of my friends have divorced parents, I don't mind having one. I don't know why but she didn't ask for a divorce.

Besides my two half-siblings, Henry Tudor is a great father. Despite all he did, he still loves me and my mother. There was never a time when my father prioritized Edward and Elizabeth over me. He never missed any holiday, any recital, any birthday, and he would tolerate our twice a year vacation to Spain. Sometimes, when he said he would be out late, he would enter our home disguised as a bandit, tell us that he just wanted a dance with the beautiful lady and her daughter and later on, reveal himself. My mother would always feign surprise, but when I was in my teenage years (after the Elizabeth incident), I would tell him how ridiculous his idea is before he could ask us to dance with him but he would still go on, dancing with us. I would yell, "Papa, why don't you try your old antic with Anne Boleyn and what's-her-name daughter of yours!" and I would run to my room, and end up being grounded. That was the last time he ever disguised as a bandit.

When I finished my first year of college at Harvard (across the Atlantic, I know), I received the biggest-slap-in-my-face from my father. He will pay for Edward's tuition at Med School. That's the turning point for me. I didn't want to be a doctor but then, I figured that I have to be one – I am destined to be one. I wanted to pursue music but being a doctor is in my blood. I know then that he wanted Edward to take over the hospital and I'm not going to let him do that. St. Margaret's Hospital is not the work of Jane Seymour and Henry Tudor – it is the work of Katherine and Henry Tudor. And I, Mary Tudor, their only daughter, will continue their legacy.

* * *

I came home and found an empty house, like I wasn't coming. I took one step and found a familiar smell – my mother cooked.

"What about Mary?" I heard my mother's voice. It was coming from my father's office. My parents argued, but they never wanted me to know that they _do_ argue. I stayed outside the half-open door, listening. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe she wanted to take over the hospital?"

"She wants to pursue her music," my father said. "If you don't know that fact then maybe you don't know our daughter."

"I do know Mary, and I know she will not be happy when she finds out that you want Edward Seymour to take over the hospital someday instead of her," my father didn't say anything. I figured I would have to break their silence.

I knocked softly. "Welcome home Mary," I said with a weak smile. They didn't have to ask if I heard anything, they knew. And it's not like I was shocked or anything, I was fully aware of what my father wanted. I have connections from my father's inner circle.

"Mary, my baby," my mother said, hugging my tightly.

I smiled. I love my mother; she turned the awkward moment into a warm one just by hugging me. "I'm not a baby anymore, mama."

"Mary, my pearl," my father welcomed me as if he is the best father in the world. Well, he is, minus the fact that he has a son named Edward and a daughter named Elizabeth and that the said children are not my mother's. "I miss you so much."

"Come to the kitchen, I cooked your favorite meals," I went after my mother. "I'm sure you miss home-cooked meals."

See what I mean about mama-loves-being-in-the-OR-rather-than-having-a-family-is-a-lie? My mother manages to save people's lives by slicing into their brain _and_ still has time to slice meat, vegetables, and spices. "You have no idea mama."

We ate and I talked and they listened. They wanted to know everything that happened to me at Harvard. I imagined they'd be this eager, especially mama. I told them about my friends, and my favorite professor, Prof. Margaret Pole. "She told me I'd really excel at music but I've done some thinking and I've decided to go to Harvard Med. I want to be a doctor."

My mother smiled at this. I am my mother's daughter; I will fight for what is rightfully mine.

"And besides, we need a Tudor in St. Margaret. We can't just trust some great doctor to run it, right papa?" I won't expect him to come clean with the Edward-is-going-to-Med-school incident.

"Of course," papa gave mama a glance, as if saying, _Did you put her up to this?_

* * *

Once when I was sixteen, I did the sweetest thing a sixteen year old could ever do for her father's birthday. I sneaked in a self-made birthday card in his planner – not.

Well at least I planned to. It was all planned and executed except for the leave-it-in-papa's-planner step. I was already there in his office, where he leaves his planner. I opened it to the current date, and discovered his plans for lunch. _At the park with princess E._ Oh, so now she's a princess.

I really wanted to grab a marker and ruin his whole planner. I was already thinking of what to write. _You're the worst father._ I really, really wanted to do it, but I decided not to when I thought about the consequences. My mom would find out (that is if she doesn't know yet), and she would be devastated. She already planned the whole dinner for tonight. I'm not a bad daughter; I won't ruin it for her.

I closed his planner and returned it to his table. I tried not to crumple the card. When I got to my room, I tucked the card away in my bookshelf. Tears are welling up in my eyes that I can't even read the title of the book where I slipped the card in. And that was the first and last time I ever made a birthday card for him.

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A/N: I hope that was worth reading. Please tell me what you think, reviews are very much appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I own no one of the characters mentioned in the story._

* * *

I woke up the next day feeling nauseous. I shouldn't have eaten everything that my mother cooked last night. My stomach feels terrible.

"Are you alright?" my father asked as I enter the kitchen.

"Nothing, I just hate my stomach," I said, hoping he wouldn't turn this conversation into a medical one.

"Do you want me to take it off?" papa smiled. There he goes again.

I decided to go along with it. It's not everyday that my father jokes with me. "Actually, I prefer if mama do it. Considering her reputation with brains, I believe she can take off my stomach with a breeze." We both laughed. Then I saw bags near the door and remembered: they're going to Paris for a seminar.

"Where's mama?" I asked.

"She's getting ready, you know how she is: she dresses longer than a queen would." I smiled at that, it was true. "So excuse me for just frying an egg this morning. Pair it up with cereal and it would taste remarkable."

I started brewing coffee. "Thanks papa." I took a bite off the sandwich I made with the fried egg.

"Henry! The cab's outside, take the bags!" my mother yelled.

I watched as he took the bags and said my good-bye to him. "Have fun in Paris."

Mama came downstairs with her handbag. "Mary, are you sure you don't want to go with us?"

"Mama, what am I supposed to do in Paris, attend the seminar just like you two will?" I said. "Besides, my work starts today in the hospital."

She gave me another hug and reminded me that if ever I get myself in trouble, I can easily contact Aunt Mary. It's like the first time they left me alone to go to a party. They tucked me in my bed, as if it would prevent me from getting up and told me that Aunt Mary is just five blocks away, if ever there are any troubles. I was eight at that time.

* * *

That summer when I was fourteen, I took my first real summer/part-time job: inventory. I keep track of the supplies in the hospital. I record the supplies in each and every cart, in the central supply unit, and in the pharmacy. I know it's not the most fabulous job for the daughter of the owner of the hospital but I actually like it. My job comes with chatting with the nurses, saying hello to the doctors and getting to stay in the ER – the worst part.

Most nurses I saw welcomed me back, and most doctors would say, "You didn't go to Paris with Dr. Tudor and Dr. Trastamara-Tudor?" It was a nice day at work, except for the fact that every time I smell a banana-based formula for NGT feeding I wanted to throw up. "You used to ask for just one taste, you love the banana-based" a nurse said as she was mixing the formula.

Everything was good, except for the moment when a little red-head girl tugged on my pants.

"Excuse me miss, can you please tell me where I can possibly wait for my friend?" she asked.

"Well where is your friend?" I asked. I will be able to tell her where to go; I know this hospital by heart.

"He's having a heart transplant," she said. "I know that the surgery just started and they said it's going to take a long time but I promised him I'd give him this." She showed me a pink box with pink ribbon with cookies inside them. I'm surprised the cookies aren't pink.

"You know your friend would probably not eat those," I said, and then I saw her little smile turn into a frown. "I'm not saying that those are not delicious, it's just that she will be asleep for a while after the surgery."

"He," the little girl corrected me. "His name is Robert Dudley."

"Well, if you're waiting for a surgery to be over, you should go downstairs, turn left, go straight, the second nurse's station you see – " I pointed to the nearest nurse's station in sight just so she would know what it's like " – go left. You'll find a lot of chairs there, go pick one, sit. And haven't you noticed the receptionist when you came in? She's usually the one people ask for directions, not the girl doing the inventory."

She didn't move. I clearly gave her the directions and she just stood there like she didn't hear anything.

"Will you take me there please?" I looked at her; she's starting to get annoying. "I did ask the receptionist and I got lost."

Lost. I cringed at the word. Never in my life have I ever been lost in this hospital. "Everyday is a new adventure; being lost is part of it. I have work to do, sorry."

"I'll wait for you."

"You're going to miss your little friend coming out of the OR." She didn't budge, "Fine, but don't expect me to stay with you."

We went downstairs, turned left, and turned left again at the second nurse's station – just like I told her. "Here you go," I told her, pointing to a chair.

"Thank you miss," she said.

I smiled and left, ready to go back to the work she interrupted. Before I could even disappear, Aunt Margaret called my name.

"Hi Aunt Margaret," I said cheerfully.

"Please keep an eye with your little friend here, I caught her almost pressing the fire alarm button," she was pointing to the red-head.

"She's not my friend; I just showed her the way." No way was this girl ruining my first day back in London.

"And that makes her your friend until she leaves this hospital and stays away from the fire alarm," Aunt Margaret says sternly. She's named after my great-grandmother and she's just like her, according to papa.

I couldn't say no so I sat down, glaring at the little girl.

She broke the silence. "So your aunt is a doctor? Cool."

"No big deal. My parents are doctors, my grandparents are doctors and someday I will be a doctor too. And when that moment comes, I will make sure no one doing the inventory gets disturbed by little girls wanting to give cookies to their friend," I say harshly.

"My father's a doctor too," she says cheerfully.

I raised one eyebrow at her and she kept quiet for a while. Then she started looking around, as if it's her first time here in the hospital.

"Maybe I should just give this to his parents, they're over there," she pointed the couple who looks like their son is having a heart transplant. The wife is very nervous and the husband is trying his best to look courageous. "Mama's arriving any time now and I would have to go home."

"Well go on."

After talking for a while to the couple, she came back and sat down quietly. We didn't speak to each other until she bounced off the chair to stand up.

"My mother's here," she stretched out her hand for a hand-shake. "I'm sorry the doctor told you to keep an eye after me. Friends?"

I simply nodded.

"My name's Elizabeth by the way. I know your name already. Here," she flashed a wide grin as I took the cookie she handed me. "Bye."

I stood up and looked at where she's heading. I didn't expect to see her – Anne Boleyn.

I expected my knees to be wobbly, but instead, my legs had a mind of their own and they ran on their own. I ran to Aunt Margaret's office. She took off her reading glasses and stared at me.

"Did you know?" I demanded.

"Sit down and try to catch your breath," she ordered. "What are you talking about?"

"That girl is Elizabeth."

In an instant, she began to look like Aunt Mary – compassionate. She stood up and hugged me. She stroked my hair just like my mother would. "I'm sorry Mary, I didn't know. If I knew, I would even throw her out of the hospital."

I let out a laugh. If there is someone so angry at my father because of his infidelity, it would be his two sisters. She gave me a glass of water and I started to calm down. I have never seen any of my father's illegitimate children and I'm happy that I haven't. But today, I met one and she managed to annoy me. Well she wasn't that bad – she just disturbed me, that's all. Maybe it was natural that I don't like her that much. She is after all, the product of the infidelity of my father to my beloved mother. I unwrapped the cookie she gave me and took a bite. I took a gulp of water when I noticed that it tastes like my mother's cookies. I can still remember her teaching Anne Boleyn how to make them – they were laughing, they were friends.

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A/N: First day back at school and I already have tons to study, hate it so I updated instead. Thanks to those who reviewed the first chapter. Reviews are still very much appreciated!


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